


The Way They Were

by Raised_ByWolves



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raised_ByWolves/pseuds/Raised_ByWolves
Summary: Series of short works (compiled across many years of writing), featuring a Tom/Doug relationship.
Relationships: Tom Hanson/Doug Penhall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short series of little ideas I’ve had over the course of many years. Some of them were beginnings (or parts) of longer failed stories or were just thoughts I jotted down with the intention of expanding on them at a later time, but then never got around to it. I thought I’d just compile them here for the heck of it. There is no connection between them/continuity, but I suppose they could be interpreted that way, if you want. I may add more later, but I may not (newer ideas or as I go through older writing pieces, I’m not sure at this point).

The man was tall, solidly built, and looked like a lawyer or a banker attempting to dress down in stiff jeans and a neatly pressed rock concert t-shirt, endeavoring to be cool but not fooling anyone. He was the kind of guy that Doug would normally try and avoid, so he was taken off guard when the man approached the bar and leaned in, feigning an air of informality.

“Hey,” the man said with a slight, nervous smile.

Doug took a gulp of his beer. “Hi,” he almost belched out his response.

The man grinned and stumbled for his words. “So, I…”

Doug took another sip. 

“I think I know the answer, but if I don’t find out for sure, I’ll be kicking myself later,” he chuckled.

“Yeah?”

The man motioned with his chin in the direction of the small, dimly lit stage in the back corner of the dive bar. Doug glanced over his shoulder to see Hanson, sitting and chatting with one of the band members at the edge of the stage, one of his legs was dangling and swinging. He was holding the other guy’s guitar and plucking a little while laughing at something that was being said. The way the muted light caught his silhouette, the way his Russell-Buckins-tattoo peeked out below his t-shirt sleeve along his bicep, the way he never thought about how he looked while also maintaining an unearthly magnetism, the way he was so calmly confident when he wasn’t in cop-mode, the way he simply existed, sometimes seemed like it was on another plane of reality.

“I noticed when you guys walked in here. You two together?” The man asked. “I mean, is he taken?”

Doug couldn’t conceal the beam that curled one side of his mouth. He turned back to the table and nodded, “He sure is.”

The other man didn’t move his gaze. “Well, you’re a damn lucky guy,” he said shaking his head ever so slightly.

Another large swallow of beer passed over his lips and Doug pierced the other man with a blazing stare.

“You don’t even know the half of it.”


	2. The ER

Although the chaos of the Friday night emergency room was in full swing, the flimsy curtain drawn around them for the moment seemed to keep the commotion at a safe distance. The sounds were comfortably present (a reminder that the real world was still there), but not an affront to the senses. After the night they’d had, it was a relief just to have a moment where no one expected anything from them. 

Doug sat in a chair, hunched over but not in much pain anymore. The shiner on his left cheek was now fully developed and his dislocated shoulder was in a sling, but the painkillers had evidently kicked in. Fatigue had replaced the pain and worry in that all too familiar way. Tom on the other hand, was stretched out on the adjacent the bed, one arm instinctively still cradling his bruised ribs and the other arm across his face. His eyes were shut, but he wasn’t asleep. Decompressing after cases was not his strong suit.

Both men’s injuries were relatively minor and didn’t necessitate a hospital stay, but it was procedure to have a doctor review their charts and officially release them. Based on the high level of activity in the ER, they guessed it might be a while, but neither of them minded.

Doug stood up stiffly and slowly. “Hey,” he gestured with his wax paper cup. “I’m gonna go get some more water. You want anything?”

Hanson thought for a moment and wrinkled his brow. “Yeah,” his voice strained out quietly with his eyes still closed.

Doug’s head snapped up. It had mostly been a rhetorical question. Tom rarely asked for anything and Doug was suddenly concerned that something else was wrong. 

“I could use one of those…” Hanson paused, his dry throat slowed his words. “One of those, round hemorrhoid ass-pillow things.” A mischievous smile now spread across his face and lifted the right side of his mouth. He unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a chuckle so as not to upset his mid-section again.

At the realization of the joke, Penhall crumpled his cup and threw it at his friend in both a sigh of relief and mocking aggravation. As he pulled back the curtain to step out, he glanced back in laughter, “Watch out, next time I decide to shoot you, my aim might be better.”


	3. His Place

Doug's favorite place to be was in the crook of Tom's neck, right where it curved. The skin was delicate and warm. He liked to taste the saltiness; he liked to breathe in the lingering scent of shampoo or sweat. He wanted to live right there, take up residence and never leave. He always closed his eyes when he was that close. Letting his other senses take over made it that much more exhilarating. That was his place.


	4. Fortress

Tom's preferred part of his boyfriend's body was his chest. It was so solid, so real, like a fortress. He liked to put his hands there and just let them rest against muscles and beating heart. Sometimes he couldn't bring himself to look up into Doug's face because he couldn't bear the emotions that would threaten to consume him. On some level he didn't feel worthy of the adoration that would gaze back at him. He didn't know why. So he would just stare and stare and stare at that chest.


	5. Names

Since Hanson wouldn’t allow anything as blatant as “babe” or anything as vain as “gorgeous,” Doug had taken to calling him, “kid.” It was mostly in private, but once in a while it would accidentally slip out in public. And although no one else would have noticed, Tom would blush slightly and suppress a smile.


	6. Once and for All

When everything had been decided once and for all, it came suddenly and without much fanfare. And looking back, it was so perfect in its simplicity.

Doug's tired legs were literally dragging on the hallway carpet the last few feet. All he could envision was collapsing into bed; food, shower, nothing else mattered, only sleepy oblivion.

He fumbled with his key, his exhausted brain not in sync with his limbs anymore. On his third attempt the metal slipped from his fingers and he let out a low, "dammit" as the key ring hit the floor.

As he started to bend over to retrieve it, the apartment door swung open. Still crouched, he looked up and a firm hand grasped the front of his collar. He tottered forward and then half-stood and half-stumbled across the threshold as the hand yanked him into the entryway.

And then he was fully upright and yet he still hadn't regained his bearings. He opened his mouth to speak but then felt the wind knocked out of him as he was forcefully pushed against the wall, his back rigid and a forearm pressed against his collar bone.

"Wha-"

And then in a flash, he couldn't speak because lips were on his lips, hungry and gentle at the same time.

Doug's body, still acting independently from his confused mind, instantly relaxed. The fatigue exited with a rush so sudden, that Doug swore he could audibly hear it swoosh as it dropped away.

"I was thinking," came Tom's voice, soft through breaths admitted only when their mouths momentarily parted.

"Yeah?" Doug responded. It was difficult to speak as the smaller body kept pressing on him, urging him towards that space where words lost meaning.

"Yeah..." Tom said again. "I was thinking..."

The kisses were so fervent now that it was difficult to find open spots to sneak in any words.

"That I..." another long pause as they bit and dived at each other. "I don't want anyone else...ever..."

Doug couldn't register the meaning of the words at first. He had to hear them over again in his head several times before their weight descended into the cracks of his skin.

"That okay with you?" Tom's breathing was now so erratic that he was lightheaded.

"Yeah," Doug puffed the word into Tom's hair. "Yeah, it's more than okay."

"Okay, good."

"Good."


	7. A Face in the Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to a character death, so skip this one if that’s not your thing. This was written a long time ago (I know it’s not perfect) and I tried editing and tweaking it, but I also didn’t want to change it too much from its original state. This could be read as sort of an epilogue chapter to the other ones, or just all on its own.

March 31st, 2000, 10:24 a.m.

The Saturday morning farmer’s market was abuzz with a larger than usual crowd, especially for such a striking spring morning. The fresh breeze and the warm sun attempted to wash away the dreary reminders of winter. Everyone seemed to be coming out from hibernation all at once.

Doug and his wife walked side by side as he bounced their daughter on his shoulders. The little girl’s high laugh squeaked uncontrollably as he purposely tilted from side to side. They were the quintessential image of a young family. He was tall and sturdy, and although his boyish face had faded and filled in with more mature features, there with still a hint of youthful mischievousness. The little girl had pale blonde hair framed around dimpled cheeks and an irresistible smile. And the wife, petite but strong, had an air of wisdom and calm that could sooth even the darkest of storms.

With a swift but careful swooping motion, Doug whirled his daughter down from his shoulders and onto the ground. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you guys at the coffee stand,” he motioned with his arm, “I’m going to pick up some of that bread your mom likes.”  
“Sure,” his wife nodded, taking the little girl’s hand and they were off.

Doug turned sharply into the swarm of shoppers and in that instant, he felt the wind knocked out of him with such a force that he nearly fell.

Through the mass of moving bodies he glimpsed a face. The profile of a young man several yards away caught him off guard and he was paralyzed in his tracks. The dark brown hair, the abrupt cheekbones set against a prominent jaw, and the slight frame were just too real and near, and it couldn’t be…

And just as quickly as the man had crossed his view he was gone again, obscured by the multitude of people passing by. Doug’s hand went limp and the bag he’d been holding absently slipped from his fingers as he attempted to regain control of his motor functions. He strained his neck, trying to see which direction the man went, and he staggered a few feet to the right and then left.

“Dammit!” he swore to himself in a panic.

And then he saw the back of the man’s head again, farther away now, but he was still sure it was the same person. 

And Doug was off, sprinting, dodging, and weaving. The man kept fading and then reappearing. Each time Doug thought he was almost there, he lost sight of him again. 

Doug’s heart threatened to explode out of his chest, and he could now feel the sweat drenching his shirt beneath his jacket. His mind was spinning and opening doors he’d promised himself were shut forever, boarded up in a ghost town of memory and heartache. Deep down, in a place he didn’t admit existed, he knew it couldn’t possibly be…but he kept moving. He wasn’t sure what was compelling him, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.

There, there he was again. He was back on the trail and this time he was going to reach him.

“Hey!” Doug’s voice sounded foreign as he finally reached out his hand to the man’s shoulder who was just coming within reach. And just as he was about to yell out again, Doug stopped himself and dropped to nearly a whisper. “Tom?” He gasped, now breathless and terrified.

And in the second before the man turned his head, Doug’s mind vaulted backwards to that time frame he’d locked away. He lived a lifetime in that moment, holding his breath and knowing the answer but not wanting to believe it.

And when the man ultimately turned and they were facing each other, it was like a sucker punch to the gut. A strange pair of eyes squinted at him from an unfamiliar and hostile face. It wasn’t him. It never was.

“What?” The man’s voice, too high and harsh, came out indignantly. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Doug stepped backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Yeah,” he panted as the nausea rose quickly into his throat, “Sorry…”

He stumbled again, and desperately looked for someplace to sit down. He recognized that he was now trembling, and he lurched towards a bench just as he felt one of his knees begin to buckle. He buried his face in his hands and finally succumbed to the overwhelming emotions.

Doug wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt a soft caress down his back. A gentle whisper grazed his ear, “I finally found you. I was so worried.”

He could hear his daughter’s giggle somewhere off to the right while she jumped up and down in a puddle. 

His wife’s hand traced the side of his cheek and she gently forced his head upwards so that he was facing her with his eyes still closed. “Look at me,” she pleaded with a voice overflowing with worry.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but he owed it to her in order to ease her concern. He slowly lifted his lids and allowed her blurry face to come into focus. His bloodshot eyes told her so much and so little at the same time.

“Sorry,” Doug murmured apprehensively. “I just…need a few more minutes. I’m ok.” 

He swiped at his face with the back of his hand. The sick feeling hadn’t yet subsided, and he was sure he couldn’t stand quite yet.

His wife’s stare told him that she was heartily unconvinced at his weak declaration of okayness, but she wanted to give him the space he needed. She patted his hair and asked a question even thought she already knew the answer he would give. “You sure?”

He sniffed quickly, struggling to remove the last traces of emotion and stared at the ground. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll catch up with you a few minutes.” 

The anguished look on his face wrenched at her heart. She wasn’t exactly sure what just happened, but she had a vague notion. Doug rarely got upset in this way. Over the years the few instances she’d experienced lessened, until she couldn’t even recall the last time. But this one was intense. This one would stay with him, stay with both of them, for a long time.

She kissed his temple and tenderly touched at it before breaking contact. “Ok. Take as long as you need.”

With his gaze still planted at the concrete under his feet, he reached out and squeezed her hand.

“What’s the matter with Daddy?” The small voice piped up as they walked away and the sounds faded and mingled with the day.

“He’s fine, he just got tired for a second. He’s going to meet us at the car.” 

***  
September 8th, 1996, 8:09 p.m.

Of course she remembered his marriage proposal. What person doesn’t vividly recall the circumstances and words used to profess a lifelong bond of love and partnership?

And although the happiness of the moment would always be at the surface of that memory, there was no denying that it was also laced with a bitter sweetness that was difficult to describe. She’d never told her family and most of her friends the underlying tragedies from her husband’s past. It wasn’t out of shame, but instead simply because she felt they wouldn’t really understand. They might nod and say they did, but then they’d turn around and make quick and misleading assumptions. And those assumptions might turn into doubt and…it just didn’t matter. She understood. And Doug understood. And that’s all that mattered.

They’d had a quiet dinner at one of their favorite neighborhood restaurants and were walking back to her apartment which at the time, was on the other end of town from Doug. Over the past few months they’d casually discussed moving in together at some point in the future when one of their leases ended, but there hadn’t been urgency in their talks. They’d been dating for 1.5 of the 2 years they’d known each other. And although the spark was still there, the ease and comfort they had with each other from day one, was what set their relationship apart. Neither one had ever felt the need to pretend or change or even clean up the dirty laundry in the corner. Perhaps it was because by the time they met, they’d left the uncertainty and chaos of their 20’s behind and had fallen into a level of ease with themselves that was forged out of life experience. And perhaps it was even more than that. After fate had dealt him some wretched hands in those first few decades of life, maybe, just maybe, the universe had conspired to finally offer Doug Penhall a break.

As they reached the stone steps of her apartment building, Doug took her by the hand and pulled her down to the stoop.

“Sit with me a sec,” he said softly as he bent low, looking up at her with a purity she hadn’t been able to articulate before.

She could sense he was nervous about something, so she just grinned and sat, trying not to let any “what if” thoughts get too carried away.

Still holding her hand in one of his, he added his other hand on top and stared hard at their entwined fingers.

“I have some things I want to say,” he started timidly. “And they may not come out right at first, so just let me finish before you say anything. Ok?” He flashed a lop-sided anxious smirk that she found so endearing.

“Sure,” she smiled back. “I promise.” She winked in order to try and ease his agitation.

Doug exhaled and then brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes.

“I’m not always so great with words,” he joked, “which you already know. So bear with me.” He swallowed, looked away, and then looked back again.

“You know some of this, but not all of it. And it’s only fair I tell you now. I want you to know.”

God, he was so somber now. It was a bit alarming. 

All she could do was nod.

“I…When I met you, I didn’t have the self-awareness to know it, but I was broken. I…”

His eyes brimmed with tears for the briefest of moments before he shook them away.

“I’d been existing for years, but not really living. I was going through the motions, but not caring what came next. I was just trying to make it through each day. It was hard…harder back then.”

Doug paused so he could again, reign in his emotions.

“Back when I was a cop, back in that other life I led, I met someone. We were partners and best friends. And then after a while, we were more.”

She nodded again. She knew about Tom. They had talked about him, but not in much depth. 

“Looking back now, I can honestly say that he was the love of my life at that time. He was my entire world there for a while. I didn’t even realize that it could be like that until I experienced it. And then in an instant, all of it was gone.”

It was impossible for him to speak of it now without shedding a tear. 

“I was with him when he died. It was like that bullet took both our lives.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder for support. 

“I was in a daze for so long. I didn’t think I was capable of loving anyone else. After a long time I tried, a little. I meant to try. But it was…empty. I was empty. I had nothing to give.”

And now she had tears in her eyes. She’d never heard him speak so candidly and so raw about any of this. 

“So unofficially, I gave up. I stopped looking and stopped feeling. It was easier that way. And then, without any warning, I met you.”

She stifled a smile, remembering that chance first meeting with their mutual friend. A busy street corner, a dropped cup of coffee, and a twinkling pair of eyes that changed everything.

“I liked you, I mean, really liked you, even from that first second. But I was scared. I hadn’t felt anything even remotely close to that in so long that I misread it at first. I didn’t trust myself. It was almost like I’d forgotten how to be a person.”

He was beaming now. The hurt of the past was still there, but the promise of the future transformed the pain into something else. 

“But for some reason, you were so patient with me. You cared enough to give me space to find my way again, while still giving me a good swift kick to the head when I needed it.”

They both laughed an awkward, but genuine laugh.

“And so what I’m trying to say is that you gave me my life back. And if you’ll have me, I’d like to spend the rest of it showing you how much I love you.”

And her mind whirled with a million thoughts and in a blink, he held out a ring.

***

March 31st, 2000, 9:15 p.m.

That night, after a family dinner with his in-laws, he sat alone on the back porch. His daughter was tucked into bed and his wife was chatting with a friend on the phone in the kitchen, laughter bursting forth every now and again over the clang of a dish or pot.  
It had all been a much-needed distraction from the incident earlier in the day, but now that the darkness and solitude was blanketed around him, he couldn’t help but let it wash over him again. It was so unsettling that even now, he felt goosebumps that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Had the face in the crowd really looked so much like Tom as to trigger a panic-stricken phantom chase? Or had something else contributed to it? He wasn’t sure.

But despite all the unknowns, Doug was certain of one thing. There would always be a distinctive bubble of time in his mind. It was a protective capsule, where a 25-year-old kid still lived. The kid wore scuffed boots and torn jeans, and his eyes could slay you in an instant, even if you thought you were ready. And if Doug closed his eyes and allowed himself the indulgence, he could hear the kid’s voice and feel the soft press of his kiss against his neck. That kid would live in that mythical place forever; never aging, never changing. He would remain an idealized version of the person who walked the earth those many years ago. And all of this wasn’t unfair to Doug’s wife. His love for her was untouchable, but it didn’t erase the other love he’d had before. These things didn’t negate each other but were instead a testament to the kinds of love a person is capable of creating in one lifetime.


End file.
